


That's Not Ideal Protocol

by agib



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt Peter Parker, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Precious Peter Parker, Prompt Fic, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Whump, goodbye videos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-22
Updated: 2018-12-22
Packaged: 2019-09-24 16:08:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17103770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agib/pseuds/agib
Summary: When someone manages to set Tony's suits to attack mode when he's away at a business conference, and Peter's in the line of fire, he tells F.R.I.D.A.Y to get Tony to activate his protocol, dutifully named 'that's not ideal protocol.'





	That's Not Ideal Protocol

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Stormborn_88](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stormborn_88/gifts).



> This fic was requested by Stormborn_88 and don't worry by the way, I have big plans for the second one you requested...  
> (Don't worry Chris, the one you asked for with Peter having an eating disorder is on its way too!)
> 
> Anyone else who has any ideas for fics, prompts or even if you have a specific fic you've always wanted - please just go ahead and ask me! You can message me on Tumblr, (Agib-2002) you can leave an anon ask for one if you're shy, <3 or just leave them in the comments on one of my fics!
> 
> I love all of you who click on my fics and I'd love to make any of you happy with a fic idea you may have! Writing them and gifting them to other people makes me feel so fulfilled too :)
> 
> Think of it as like a Christmas Gift to yourself, ask for a fic or shout out a prompt and I would die to give them all a go!
> 
> <3 Leave a comment, I hope you enjoy!

“Suit activation code sixteen, one, eighteen, eleven, five, eighteen.” There was a metallic whirring and then several glass case doors were sliding open, moonlight glinting off sleek Nitinol surfaces. Four dark eyes lit up, each glowing blue much like their more safeguarded copies, which the intruder had no way of accessing without a matching thumbprint.

“Access code accepted, automated attack mode activated, Mr. Parker.” The man’s face grinned through the dim light of the shutdown lab, the smile was less than friendly, and more than knowing that the teen, whose access code he just used, was defenceless along with the rest of the Avengers.

\----

Steve was already in bed, Natasha and Clint were playing a Russian card game in the living room, Sam, Bucky and Rhodey were out in Germany for a low-level mission whilst Tony was in Japan for a business conference. Peter was still undecided whether he was staying the night like he normally did every second Friday, but considering his mentor was across the globe, he was calling it a late night and swinging his way back to the apartment before May went to bed, but he needed his web shooters first, and they were buried somewhere under the stacks of papers he had been working on all evening.

“What are you still doing up kid?” Clint asked, taking a moment to look up from his cards when Peter padded across the living room to the elevator, rubbing one eye blearily as he yawned.

“M’ gonna go grab my webs from the lab and swing home, no point in staying the night if Mr. Stark only gets back on Sunday morning.” He pressed the button, quirking an eyebrow when F.R.I.D.A.Y took a long pause before opening the doors for him, but ultimately thinking nothing of it. Clint shrugged and turned his attention back to the card game which Natasha was currently winning without much of a struggle.

“Night паук,” Natasha called as the elevator slid closed and Peter took another moment to yawn tiredly.

When the doors opened in the lab, it felt strange to the boy as he walked through to the benches without any music thrumming as white noise in the background, or the lack of his mentor throwing a casual wave in his direction. Peter wouldn’t lie, when Tony had said he needed to go to Japan for a few days over the weekend, he had been mildly disappointed that he would miss out on his fortnightly lab sessions with the mechanic.

“ _So, you sure you’re cool with that kiddo? I could always try to push it back a couple days, so we can still -”_

_“No, Mr. Stark, honestly it’s totally fine, I mean… I could always come by next weekend, right? If that’s not, y’know, if - if that’s not a hassle for you or anything.” Peter fiddled with the sleeve of his sweatshirt and looked up at Tony, who was relaxed across two bench seats, screwing a finger back into one of his suit gauntlets._

_“No, that actually works out really well, but just because I’m not here, don’t think you’re still not welcome. You can drop by even if I’m out, nobody cares.” Peter nodded thoughtfully and then smiled._

_“Thanks, Mr. Stark.”_

_“No problem kid._ ”

Peter filed through a few different stacks of paper, looking for the one which his web cartridges were buried under. He really needed to put something on those, so he wouldn’t keep losing them so easily.

There was a clatter from a few floors away and Peter perked up, tilting his head and focusing his hearing to see what the commotion was about.

“- eed to call Rhodey and get Steve up, go get your bow Clint!” He frowned at the yelling but when he listened harder, he could hear the tell-tale metallic clicking of Iron Man suits on the linoleum floors.

“Shit…” Peter muttered, rifling through the pages with more intensity as the noise of combat increased on the other floor.

He heard glass and immediately snatched up the two cartridges that were rolling away from the sheet of paper he had just hurriedly moved out of the way. The teen shoved his web shooters onto his wrists and bolted for the elevator, planning on helping where Natasha and Clint sounded like they were fending off a few of Tony’s empty suits.

He slammed the button and hopped from foot to foot as he waited for the familiar chime that meant the doors would slide open and take him where he needed to go, but F.R.I.D.A.Y never opened the elevator doors, at least not before Peter’s Spidey sense buzzed alarmingly in the back of his head and he dove under a desk before the wall was being blown open. “Oh my god…” he whispered as two of Tony’s low-level suits burst into the lab, their thermal imaging on, so they could seek Peter out. “Uh, F.R.I?”

“Yes Peter?” The A.I’s reply was mostly drowned out by the sound of the first suit firing off its thrustors and blasting the bench Peter was now scrambling away from.

“Just one question for you… what the absolute hell is?” He ducked as the chair under the desk he was just crouched beneath was hurled at him. “Jesus! Can you shut them down now?!” He rolled out of the way of another repulsor blast and slammed his back up against the long bench at the back of the room, breathing heavily as he forced the cartridges into place on his web shooters.

“I am afraid I cannot shut down suits programmed for automated attack mode without sufficient override codes.” Peter’s eyes widened, Tony had explained automated attack mode to him a few months ago.

“ _Okay, everyone gets their own unique codes for how to set automated attack mode on, but only for four of the suits, the ones that I can dismantle relatively easily. Your code is Parker, but make sure you enter it as numbers, not letters.” Peter used his fingers to calculate the sequence himself, jostling the small video camera tucked under his arm, which he’d brought to capture his first official tour of Tony’s lab._

_“So, it should be sixteen, one, eighteen, eleven, five, eighteen?” Tony nodded and pointed to the glass wall where four of his least guarded suits stood. He waved a hand towards them as if to say, ‘go ahead,’ and so Peter did. He repeated the string of numbers and watched interestedly as the suit’s eyes lit up and their doors opened at once._

_“Okay, so here’s the important bit buddy, if you just leave it at that and don’t say anything else, the suits power up into an automated attack mode, they’ll treat everything that isn’t me as a threat, including you. The big thing here is you need to either get me or Rhodey to feed them the shutdown code or they’re gonna start to blast up the tower, okay?” Peter watched as the eyes of the suit stayed blue, and their repulsors began to whine as they charged up._

_“Okay, yeah jeez. Why don’t I get a shutdown code?” Tony stiffened, and he looked down to his side where Peter was stood._

_“Do you know how many people would kill to know the shutdown codes for Iron Man’s suits? You don’t get how much some people are willing to do. I couldn’t put you in a position where you have information that I know for a fact people would kill for, I’m not putting you in danger kiddo.” Peter blinked before softening, turning back to face the suits as Tony jabbed an override code into a keypad which slid the doors shut and powered the armour back down._

_“That’s actually… really thoughtful. Thank you.”_

_“Alright Pete, let’s not get mushy here._ ”

“No, no, no, F.R.I.D.A.Y it’s me! Wait, shit!” Peter dove out from the bench he was pressed against as a repulsor blast sent it up in splinters, he rolled and hit the opposite wall, sticking to the sides and scurrying up to the ceiling before the suits could get their targeting system locked on him. “F.R.I, call Mr. Stark! You gotta call Mr. Stark now, or - ah!” He shot a web out and swung across the lab, pulling himself back up and over the suits which had begun to blast at him. “Just call _somebody_!”

“Mr. Stark is at a conference right now; his phone will not accept incoming calls due to the importa -”

“For god’s sake F.R.I.D.A.Y! I’m kind of being shot at right now!” Peter yelped as his web was burnt through by a laser beam and he hit the remnants of the bench he had used as cover, wincing as he felt bits of jagged wood scratching up his hands and legs as he stumbled to his feet and webbed off back to the ceiling.

The suits were emotionless, and it was hard for Peter to force his mind into accepting them as a threat because there were so many occasions in which he fought alongside Iron Man quite happily, always trusting he was there to keep his back safe.

But things were very different now as one of the suits powered up its thrusters and smashed a fist into the drywall where Peter’s head had been merely seconds ago. They clearly weren’t fighting to disable, they were aiming to kill, and it sent an icy shiver down the teen’s spine as he realised this wasn’t going to be an easy fight.

The boy flipped down off the wall and ran for the elevator, he wrenched open the doors as the suits landed and began to stalk towards him, their hands raised, whining as the thrusters powered up for a lethal blast. Peter chewed the inside of his cheek so much he felt tangy blood seep under his tongue, but he forced himself to lean out and stick to the wall of the elevator shaft, letting himself begin to crawl down as the blasters started up behind him.

The heat from the repulsor blasts made his unmasked face heat up as he skittered down to a larger area where there hopefully wouldn’t be as many flammable chemicals lying about like in the lab. He could hear more blasters and he focused on pushing his way out of the shaft and tumbling into the lounge area where Natasha and Clint had one suit disassembled on the side, eight arrows sticking out of its metal backing and two knives in the chest plate. He saw a blur from the corner of his eye and watched as Steve, fully decked out in his pyjamas, looking groggy but somewhat alert to the situation, as he struggled to keep a second suit pinned to the wall, dodging the clumsy blasts it was aiming at him as he kept it lodged between his body and the wall.

Peter’s head exploded in screeching warning and he only just managed to duck as the two suits came barrelling out of the elevator shaft, one of them managing to clip his elbow as they flew past and into the air, their targeting systems locking onto the four heroes that stood in the lounge area, glaring back up at them.

“Targeting system has lock,” an unfamiliar A.I voice rang out from within both suits. Without missing a beat, one split apart and hurled itself toward where Natasha and Clint were ripping their weapons from the disassembled suit and readying themselves for a fight. The second suit locked onto Steve for a brief moment before switching to Peter, allowing the still jerking suit which was pinned against the wall to deal with the super soldier.

Peter cried out as the suit accelerated into him, sending them both crashing into the coffee table, glass shattering and tearing up Peter’s back as he struggled underneath the suit’s hands. He tried to shove it away, but the suit’s thrusters were still continuing to push down on him and he distantly wondered if they were strong enough to send them through the floor. He wailed as one of its ironclad fists swung down and connected with the side of his head, snapping his neck to the side as he gasped at the shock of the blow. The next fist that came down, to assumingly break his nose, he caught, _barely_.

He managed to knock it off course, so it split the linoleum beside his head, but nothing stopped the opposite hand from clamping down on his throat, squeezing so hard that Peter could feel his face turning red as his oxygen was cut off. His vision was darkening too quickly, and he had enough awareness to hope the suit didn’t have enough strength to snap his neck, because there was no coming back from that.

Peter lifted his arms and wildly shot them out to connect with any part of the suit he could reach, the face plate was ripped off after two hits and he could see the empty space where his mentors face was normally smiling back at him.

“F - F.R.I… re - recor - record,” he spluttered, feeling his windpipe closing shut as the suit’s strength increased. He ripped the chest plate off and his nails scrabbled at the metal arms, his strength weakening along with his ability to breathe and stay conscious. “T - tell them to - to,” he wheezed, feeling so horribly like his thirteen-year-old self, hunched over and coughing his way through an asthma attack as his gym teacher sprinted off to find an inhaler. “To a - activate Karen a - a - and proto - protocol n - ni - ninetee -” Peter cut himself off with an abhorrent gurgling noise as he choked on his own words and blinked several times, his eyes darting as the last air was squeezed out of him just after his final plea.

The room behind the mask less suit swirled and Peter’s vision faded in and out with pops of unnatural colouring.

He vaguely heard a clang and then felt warm, human hands on his cheeks, something lifting the weight of the suit from his body, a woman screaming in Russian and the sound of Captain America saying a word that Peter didn’t even think he was legally allowed to say as a children's role model.

And then his world shifted to blackness and all his sensations washed away with the tide of unconsciousness.

\----

“Happy, you need to get Tony out of that conference and onto the jet back to the tower, _now._ ” Steve paced the halls outside the operating theatre, his phone shoved between his ear and his shoulder as he walked past the viewing window repeatedly. The surgeons and doctors had asked him to stay right outside in case Peter had another seizure, because super strength and seizures don’t mix, and they needed Steve there to keep him still. “ _Please_ , Tony needs to be here, it - it’s the kid. He’s not doing well…”

There were muffled noises like Happy was walking somewhere quickly, he was speaking to someone in a hushed voice and then Steve could hear a door opening and then Tony’s recognisable voice as the phone was shifted into his hands.

“Cap, what’s happening, Happy said Peter -”

“I know,” he interrupted, “there was… someone got the suit codes and activated a few of them, Peter was… he was in the lab and we thought he had gone home already, we were in the lounge and we didn’t even know there were more until he came down the elevator shaft and one of them got to him and he was… it - I don’t know what to say, his brain went without oxygen for a while Tony.”

“I’m coming, I’m coming Steve - _shit._ ” Steve could hear two pairs of footsteps pounding and heavy breathing from the other end of the phone. “Is he… what did the doctors say? Is he going to be o - okay?” It hurt to hear the way Tony’s voice cracked as he asked if Peter would be okay, but Steve had no idea how to answer the question.

“They haven’t said anything yet, but he… they mentioned that if the brain goes without oxygen for too long it can cause seizures, and he had one, he’s still unconscious but they needed me in there to make sure he didn’t hurt himself.” He could hear Tony’s expensive shoes skidding as they turned a corner, and in the background, he heard Happy radioing the pilot of the jet to start it up, but he didn’t hear Tony’s reaction.

“It’s going to take eight hours, I can’t just sit on the jet and wait eight hours Steve.” He took a deep breath and stopped pacing, leaning his forehead against the wall.

“He said stuff before he passed out, he wanted F.R.I.D.A.Y to record something but I didn’t hear anything after that, we were all occupied trying to get the other suits out of the way, so we could get the one on top of him off.”

“Send it.” Tony whispered, barely audible over the sound of the jet engine rumbling to life in the background. He wasn’t processing the information properly, his mind was blocked by the constant stream of _one of my suits was on top of him, he went without oxygen for too long, he’s already had a seizure, he could be dying, he could be dead before I even land…_

“You’re just going to sit on that plane and blame yourself for eight hours, aren’t you?” The audio changed, and he assumed Tony and Happy were inside the main cabin now.

“Steve _please_ , just send it.” Tony’s voice was wrecked already, he sounded like he was seconds away from sobbing into the receiver. His fists were gripping the arm of his seat so tightly that he briefly thought his nails would tear through the leather. “I need to hear, I have to know what happened.”

“Okay look, just… I’ll send it through, okay? I need to end the call though, they’re taking him for an M.R.I scan. I’ll let you know if I hear anything.” The line cut off as Tony began to hear wheels rolling over linoleum, he dropped his head in his hands and waved away the air hostess as she offered him something to drink. He stared at his phone unwaveringly until it buzzed and a link to one of his suit’s cams filled the screen.

He clicked, praying to whatever was out there that he wasn’t about to see Peter dying at the hands of one of the suits _he_ had designed.

The screen was black at first, then he heard a whirring and horribly strained, wheezing breaths filled his ears. The video popped up and Tony was met with the image of his protege, pressed against the floor, which was covered in glass and pieces of wood that seemed to be the remnants of the living rooms coffee table. Tony saw the metallic fist, which he immediately pegged down as one of his low-level security suits, that was squeezed around the teen’s throat, tight enough that his face was red, his veins popping out as he visibly struggled. The scratchy noises of nails scrabbling over metal made him wince as he knew, even with super strength, Peter wouldn’t be strong enough to disable anything that could shut the suit down in time to release the grip which only seemed to be tightening around his neck. Peter eyes were glassy and wide, he blinked every so often, squeezing them shut as his breaths were cut off. Tony could see the dark pupils dilating until almost all of the large, chocolate irises were swallowed by the black, but somehow the pure, adrenaline induced fear was still expressed through his eyes.

“T - tell them to - to,” Peter began, hacking and coughing when the suit’s hands gripped tighter in retaliation. Tony bit his lip and glanced away as he heard Peter gurgling when his arms slapped against the fingers around his neck, eyes somehow growing wider as he assumingly swallowed painfully. Peter tried again, “to a - activate Karen a - a - and proto - protocol n - ni - ninetee -” he gasped and when his eyes squeezed shut, a small tear fell and rolled down his cheek. When he blinked and opened his eyes again, it was clear that he was using the last of his air to force out his final few words. “M - Mr. St’rk… n - not y’r fault… ‘s not y’r fault.” His eyes were rolling to the back of his head even as he fought for the air which he wasn’t getting.

There was a horrible stretch of about thirty seconds in which nothing happened besides Peter falling unconscious and the distant background noise of the others still fighting. The feed ended around the same time Tony saw Natasha’s hands cupping a response-less Peter’s cheeks as she yelled in Russian, and Steve’s shield flying directly at the suit’s head, before it completely cut off and Tony was left staring at the empty screen, tears beginning to well. He moved a shaky hand into his pocket, fumbling for a minute before pulling out his earpiece which connected him to F.R.I.D.A.Y.

“F.R.I? Get me access to Karen.”

\----

“I am afraid I require an access code; Peter’s private protocols are for my and his uses only.” Tony rubbed his forehead, silently cursing how intricate the security was on Peter’s suit.

“Override,” he said, the A.I took a moment to work her voice recognition before the screen unlocked and Tony was staring at the list of protocols that Peter had created himself for his suit. “Search, protocol nineteen.” There was a buzz as Karen flickered through the protocols, Tony smiled to himself when he saw the multiple protocols Peter had added himself which allowed Karen to understand his movie, vine and pop culture references.

“Found, protocol nineteen, also called ‘ _That’s Not Ideal Protocol._ ’” Tony held back his clipped laugher and hoped that whatever he was about to see wasn’t a collection of the times Peter had been hurt during patrol, only to follow up the gunshot or knife wound with a meek ‘that’s not ideal.’ He still remembered the time Peter said those words before abruptly passing out from hypovolemic shock.

_They never said mentoring a spider-baby was easy._

“There are three videos saved to this protocol, would you like to view them?”

“Yes Karen, play footage.”

\----

_Peter sat on a rooftop, presumably somewhere in Queens. The fading light of sunset streaked across the sky in the background and the video’s audio was quality enough to pick up the faint, distant honking of rush-hour traffic some twenty floors below where Peter was rested against an air vent, his legs outstretched. He was facing the camera, but his head was turned away, watching a pigeon pick at an old fast food wrapper._

_“Hey Karen, you recording?” He was wearing his suit, the mask off and propped up against a brick, facing where Peter sat._

_“Yes, I have been recording for the last thirty-seven seconds,” Peter looked up, surprised, now looking directly at the camera._

_“Uh, oh yeah, sorry,” he laughed nervously, flicking a stone to the side with his fingers. “I should probably explain what… what this is supposed to be I guess.” He sighed softly and scratched the back of his head as if thinking. “Look, Mr. Stark, the bottom line is that I just kinda wanted a couple of videos saved in case anything ever went wrong during a mission or something. I mean, I feel like that’s what most superheroes do, right? Or at least, that’s what we should all do, huh…”_

_Peter was biting his lower lip, his fingers twitching nervously in his lap. “I’ve made one for May and Ned, and it’s pretty sad but they’re really the only family I have left. But I figured, I need to make you one too, just because of everything you’ve done for me, or um, f - for Spider-Man really.” He pulled at the neck of his suit, his eyes darting for a moment before he took a breath and started speaking again. “Pretty much I just wanted to say thank you for everything you’ve done, for me, for Spider-Man. I really appreciate it Mr. Stark, seriously - I do.” Peter’s gaze drifted before circling back to the camera, “I guess that’s all I really want you to know right now, just that I’m really thankful and stuff… yeah.”_

_The screen went blank before Peter popped back up in a second setting._

_His face was flushed, his cheeks and nose tinted pink, he was in regular clothes, standing in his bedroom, the mask held in his hand. “Hey Mr. Stark! I just remembered something and figured you’d probably wanna know about it. May just called me reckless because I didn’t use a dish towel to get my noodles out of the microwave,” he grinned guiltily, “but uh, she started listing all the reckless things I’ve done, to prove me wrong when I argued.” Peter waved his hand as he spoke, rocking back and forth on his feet, this video was in the style of a vlog, but the teen didn’t seem to mind as he rambled on. “So, she listed this thing - it’s probably one of the dumbest things I’ve done if we’re being honest here - and it was…” Peter looked up and at ceiling and his lips moved as he mentally calculated something, “it was two-thousand and ten, I think that was the year anyways.”_

_Peter shifted, walking across the room to sit on his bed, still holding his mask as the camera. “It was your expo, the one I got tickets to for my birthday, I was so excited, Ben got me one of those plastic Iron Man masks and I refused to take it off.” He laughed as if remembering the absurdity of his childhood adoration before his cheeks flushed slightly and the almost guilty smile came back. “Um, when the Hammer Drones started attacking stuff, and everyone was running around to get to safety, I got separated from my Uncle, and I remember standing there watching everything going to shit. It’s weird to think back and know that I wasn’t scared, or at least not as scared as I should have been.”_

_Peter fidgeted and picked at a loose thread hanging from his bed, “I think the drones must’ve locked onto the Iron Man mask I was wearing, but I don’t really think younger me had enough common sense to run, and I just sorta stood there and raised my fake gauntlet as if I could blow the thing up.” He smiled sheepishly, “obviously, nothing happened, and I would have totally been toast if you hadn’t have shown up…” the boy looked up into the camera and smiled gratefully, “you shot the drone and told me ‘nice work kid,’ then you flew off. I didn’t shut up about that for probably over three weeks.” Peter looked at his hands, a small smile still present on his face, “I guess I never really got a chance to thank you for that, huh?” An earnest look filled his eyes and his next words were genuine, “thank you, Mr. Stark, for saving my life back then. Even if I was being completely reckless and will probably continue doing stuff like that even now.”_

_Peter gave a little wave to the camera and the video cut out._

_The next shot seemed to be taken some time after the first two. Peter was dressed in plain clothes; a small patch of bandaging could be seen through the arm of his shirt and he looked overtired as he sat on his desk chair._

_“Hey Mr. Stark, this one’s probably kinda more on the serious side… I uhm, I had a bit of a close call on patrol today - I’m okay now, don’t worry about it. But it sort of put stuff in perspective, I mean, it made the whole prospect of dying seem more real to me I guess.” He was playing with his hands nervously, not making much eye contact with the camera, unlike the first two videos. “I’ve been thinking this for a little bit, and um, it feels really weird to say out loud… but I guess if anything did happen to me it’s not like I’d be there to feel the embarrassment or anything, so I should just put it out there on the off chance that it doesn’t weird you out.”_

_Peter’s eyes were looking everywhere but the camera, his hair was mussed, and he looked like he was heavily debating whether he should speak or not. “The thing is, Mr. Stark,” his lips parted but before he spoke the video flickered and he was an inch or so off centre now, he had clearly edited something out and was trying again._

_“Thing is… I really um - I really look up to you and you’re an amazing mentor, which you don’t give yourself enough credit for, and uh -” The video cuts slightly again and Peter’s hair is more unkempt, as if he had run a hand through it. “I should probably just say it, y’know, like ripping off a band-aid.” The teen looked at his lap and continued fiddling with his hands, “I kinda think of you as like a Dad… like, almost a father-figure.” There was a beat before Peter looked up and blew out a breath, “okay, that’s all I really needed to say I guess, uh - thanks again… yeah…”_

_The screen cut to black._

\----

Tony blinked, his eyesight blurry as he hurriedly wiped at his eyes with the heel of his palm.

“Of course you were the kid at that expo, _of course you were_.” The mechanic whispered to himself, his head dropping when he realised how much he would be losing if Peter wasn’t okay when he made it to the compound. “God kiddo, what did I ever do to deserve you, huh?” He huffed a dry, emotionless laugh, “shit Underoos, you really went all out on the goodbye videos, didn’t you?”

Tony remembered the day that Peter must have recorded the last video on, and he was right, _it had been a close call._ His web shooters had gotten completely and utterly mangled during a fight, and the kid hadn’t been able to get off the rooftop safely, or at least not before he was thrown off the edge of it without warning. Tony had caught him probably a few feet or so from the ground, with no time to spare. It hadn’t been a good save, Peter’s shoulder was wrenched out of its socket when Tony grabbed his arm, and his back had been shredded to ribbons from all the brick window sills he had hit on his way down from the forty-two-storey building. By the time Tony brought them down to the ground and had medical on the way, Peter was shaking violently and refusing to loosen his grip on his mentor.

Tony could remember what it had felt like to hold Peter that day while they had waited for medics to arrive. The teen was trembling and had wrapped both his arms, including the one which had been dislocated, around Tony’s neck, his face buried into his pulse point as he caught his breath and calmed himself down.

“Six hours boss,” Happy interrupted Tony’s reminiscing. He nodded curtly and shuffled back in his seat, accepting the fact that he would no doubt be spending the next six hours thinking about what he was supposed to say if Peter woke up.

Or what the hell he was going to do if his kid didn’t wake up.

\----

“We’ve taken an MRI and an EEG to check the electrical activity of his brain and pinpoint the seizures, they seem to have stopped for the moment but we’re monitoring him constantly. They shouldn’t be a reoccurring issue, they’re merely a result of the effects of lack of oxygen on the brain.” Tony didn’t look optimistic, and something in his face was saying just that, so the doctor continued along a more positive route. “We’ve ruled out the possibility of a coma, there’s far too much brain activity for that to be seriously considered as an outcome, but we are letting him rest. His body needs the sleep and it should wake itself up in a few hours.”

“Thank you, really. I’m just going to stay in there with him until he’s awake.” Tony pushed open the door and watched as the doctor swapped the papers out on their clipboard for another patient.

The door swung closed on its own behind him. The atmosphere in the room changed, something more anxiety ridden, more eerie, especially for a large, private medical wing which was only occupied by the small figure. Multiple monitor patches were stuck to Peter’s chest and arms, a few on his skull too. His neck was a mottled mess of dark blues and purples, but it didn’t look nearly as bad as it would have if the teen didn’t have accelerated healing. “Hey kid,” Tony whispered, sinking down in a stiff waiting chair that had been pushed up against the wall beside the bed. The mechanic scooted it forward more, so he could rest his arm on the bed and reach out a finger to brush over the back of Peter’s wrist.

It took Peter three more hours before he actually woke up.

“Morning Pete,” Tony murmured softly, watching overblown pupils react to the light as large brown eyes blinked up at him curiously. “Easy kiddo, you’re okay, everything’s good.” The first thing Peter did when he got a grip on his motor controls, was flip his hand over and squeeze his mentors’ hand, smiling weakly.

“Sorry I ripped the chest n’ face plates off your suit,” the teen apologised, his voice hoarse and fractured on most words. Tony found it in himself, past the thick guilt which had been ravaging away inside him, to smile and huff a short laugh.

“Yeah, I’ll send you the bill,” he joked lightly, watching Peter’s face intently for any sign of pain or discomfort. He softened slightly, tightening his grip on the boy’s hand as his face went placid and sincere. “Peter… I - I’m so sorry, I should never have given you a code, I never wanted this to h -”

“No, no - Mr. Stark _please_ , don’t say sorry. It’s _not_ your fault.” Tony shook his head slightly and sighed, his shoulders dropping as he looked at the wide eyes on Peter’s face. “Seriously, it was your suit, yeah sure, but other than that you had no involvement.” The teen could see how dead-set his mentor was on blaming himself, “it would be like if someone took Cap’s shield and attacked me with it. _Not Cap’s fault, not your fault._ ” Peter was staring at him, his eyes almost pleading, but edged with sternness that implied he would keep arguing if Tony continued to shoulder the blame.

“Okay,” he relented, his eyes darting to the bruising surrounding Peter’s neck. “Just… can you tell me about the videos?” Peter’s head quirked slightly in confusion.

“Uh, what videos?” He asked, his eyebrow raising in question.

“That’s not ideal protocol, the three videos you made for me… in case anything ever happened.” Understanding dawned on Peter’s face and he blinked a few times, slowly, passively.

“It was all true, but I only gave you the protocol number because I thought, um… yeah, maybe I wasn’t gonna come out so unscathed.” Peter looked down and his cheeks rose a few shades pinker like in the video, but he kept his hand in Tony’s, retaining the tightness of their fingers. “But, I just… I’m really sorry if I said anything to make you uncomfortable, you can just disregard and forget I ever said the stuff in the last vid -”

Tony cut Peter off when he stood and gingerly pulled the teen into his chest, cupping the back of his head and being careful not to disturb any of the monitors even as he felt the boy’s arms slowly, tentatively coming up to wrap around his middle. “Th - thanks… and - and sorry too, for scaring you.”

“Don’t be, you didn’t scare me that much,” _a blatant lie on Tony’s part,_ “you’re too stubborn to go anywhere, anytime soon.” He rested his chin on the crown of Peter’s head lightly, “you’re so stubborn you probably could be my kid.”

“Thank you,” Peter said quietly, his voice slightly muffled from where he had buried his face against Tony’s sternum.

**Author's Note:**

> <3 <3 <3
> 
> I got Tumblr not so long ago ~ It's agib_2002 ~
> 
> I post on there - it's all Marvel (especially irondad)
> 
> A few people have commented and mentioned that they've read more than just one of my fics and enjoyed them, so, if anybody wants to, I'd be really happy writing asks and getting prompts or suggestions for new fic to write if you leave them on Tumblr.
> 
> So... yeah, leave an ask/suggestion if you want me to write it (or even just ask any questions you're curious about me or my writing or anything really).
> 
> I'd honestly be happy talking about anything if anyone messaged me, so feel free to hit the asks/submissions/messages if you wanted to say anything at all.
> 
> <3


End file.
